


music from unremembered fever

by blackkat



Series: Jango/Fay prompts [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Poison, Sick Child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:47:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25506169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: “Dad,” Boba says, delirious, desperate, and Jango's chest aches. His boots slip on the stone as he tries to climb the hill, and he stumbles, only just manages to catch himself before Boba hits the ground. His ankle aches, probably shattered in his fight, but—The hills keep going for miles, and there's no trace of another soul anywhere.
Relationships: Fay (Star Wars)/Jango Fett
Series: Jango/Fay prompts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1941700
Comments: 14
Kudos: 424





	music from unremembered fever

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: Fay/Jango, when Boba accompanies Jango on a job Boba gets sick/injured/poisoned and a rumored jedi healer is Jango's closest hope.

“Dad?” Boba says, and it’s the first time in his life that Jango has ever heard his voice shake. “Dad, I'm really cold.”

He isn't; he’s burning up with fever, skin so hot Jango can only think about brain damage, the poison tearing its way through his system. He breathes out, and it shudders out of his lungs, jars in his throat. When Jango goes to hitch Boba up, his hands hold tighter than they should, arms almost bruising, but—

His _son_. His _son_ is dying, and it’s his fault. Because he wanted to push Boba's training, because he got overconfident. Because some two-bit bounty hunter with a grudge over a stolen bounty jabbed Boba with a hypo full of _something_ , and he’d promptly collapsed, seizing.

The bounty hunter will never make that mistake again. But Jango has no idea how to help Boba, the poison unique and without a cure, and his only hope is the whispered stories of a Jedi healer in the hills that one of the locals passed on.

“Dad,” Boba says, delirious, desperate, and Jango's chest _aches_. His boots slip on the stone as he tries to climb the hill, and he stumbles, only just manages to catch himself before Boba hits the ground. His ankle aches, probably shattered in his fight, but—

The hills keep going for miles, and there's no trace of another soul anywhere.

“I'm here, Boba,” Jango says, rough, and settles Boba in his lap. Wraps his arms around him, pressing his face into his curls, and tries not to think about Tyrannous, the clones, Kamino.

All of his hopes, come down to one wandering Jedi. If somehow, some miracle can happen and Jango can find her, he’ll tell her. If she can save his son, he’ll tell her about the clones and Tyrannous’s plots. On all the honor he has left, on his son’s life, he will. There's nothing but desperation left in him, and if that’s a promise the universe will take, he’ll keep it without hesitation.

And then, like an answer, like a blessing, there's a footstep. A boot on stone, a brush of cloth, and Jango jerks his head up, locking eyes with the Sephi standing on the hill above him, framed by the rising sun. Cream-colored robes ripple around her, and her face is steady, with a touch of concern, and as soon as Jango acknowledges her she starts down the slope towards them.

“You need me?” she asks, and Jango can't even begin to speak. “I heard it echo in the Force. What’s wrong?”

In the Force. Jango closes his eyes, breath shuddering. She heard it and she came. He’s spent so long hating the Jedi as a whole, wanting every last one of them dead, and yet—

And yet.

“My son,” Jango says, and pushes to his feet, staggering a few steps to meet her. “He was poisoned—no one knows a cure, it’s a bounty hunter’s mix and he didn’t tell anyone what he put in it—”

“That’s fine. I can heal him,” the Jedi says, and reaches out.

It’s a sign of Jango's desperation that he doesn’t even hesitate to shift Boba into her arms.

“Dad!” Boba says in alarm, and jerks, but he’s too weak. Jango twitches, stepping close enough to lay a hand on Boba's back, and the Jedi doesn’t protest. She just hums soothingly, cradling Boba against her shoulder as she grazes her fingertips over his spine.

“Shh, Boba,” Jango says. “The Jedi's going to help you.” And the words feel _wrong_ , sitting in his mouth, but if she can do _anything_ , Jango doesn’t give a damn. He’ll face whatever he has to for his part in things, as long as Boba's alive.

“Fay,” the Jedi says. Her grey eyes meet Jango's, hold, and she smiles at him, just faintly. “My name is Fay.”

“Jango Fett. And my son, Boba.” Jango swallows, looking at her small hand against Boba's back, and asks, “Can you…?”

“Yes,” Fay says simply, and sinks down to the ground. Jango goes with her, then immediately reaches out to touch Boba again, and—

His skin is cool.

Relief jars out of Jango like a sob, and he leans in, drops his forehead against Boba's shoulder. “Thank you,” he says, ragged.

Fay's fingers stroke gently through his hair, and he can hear the smile in her voice as she says, “I'm a Jedi. It’s my duty. My calling.”

That’s what the Jedi are supposed to be. That’s what the stories all say they are. For so long, when Jango has herd the term, he’s only been able to think of Galidraan, the slaughter there, the aftermath. He’s scoffed at all the stories about Jedi for years now.

But this one—this one happened to be true.

Jango keeps his eyes closed, but he grips her forearm, breathes in.

Breathes out, and lets himself believe.


End file.
